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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27640984">the good pretender</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mudfrog/pseuds/mudfrog'>mudfrog</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dream SMP-verse [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Injury, Character Study, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Revolution</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:07:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,821</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27640984</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mudfrog/pseuds/mudfrog</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Techno and Dream have a chat after the revolution, at the rooftops of New L'Manberg.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream/Dave | Technoblade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dream SMP-verse [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1987528</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>101</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>862</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Bottomblade_Discord_Collections</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the good pretender</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>AN: techno in this one fic is an apostle of the blood god, rather than the blood god himself, because i'm experimenting with what he said in his recent stream where he went "r u telling me the god ive been worshipping for a year is named corn"</p><p>(khorne is the name of the blood god that he's referring to, which is actually really funny)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Technoblade doesn’t attend the funeral.</p><p>No one expected him to; L'Manburg is recreated on fresh stilts beneath a gaping maw because of him- well, him, Wilbur, Schlatt, but you can't blame the dead. Once they're all gone but one, you can really only blame the one. Techno sits, a leg propped up, miles from the funeral, on the edge of a spruce wood roof in New L’Manberg, staring at the bonfire in the distance. The orange light flickers against the black of night like a green screen, the sound of scattered laughter carried to him slowly, thinly. The moon hovering above him have forced him in a melancholy mood.</p><p>L’Manberg’s never seemed quieter than now, without Schlatt haunting its grounds. </p><p>Techno’s eyes drift to the lopsided chunk of rock heralding the once-White House, to the sometimes-specter which drifts from the grates of the sewers to the podium.</p><p>Feels like he should be dead with the rest of them.</p><p>It's so lame, he hates being a side character. </p><p>“Interesting, isn't it, that they’re holding one,” </p><p>There's the fine-tuning of a guitar, beset by a roaring laughter. It looks better now, Techno thinks indignantly. The roof where he'd sat is warm under him, moving lets in the chill - he didn't do all this so they'd have better <em>aesthetics.</em> Dream is a smug figure beside him. Techno hums distantly, not all that interested in confirming nor denying, resting his arm over his knee. He watches unblinking the glow of the fire, thinks he can see the looming shadows that are being cast around it, the pinprick dancing figures.</p><p>Dream's voice is sly, his words spread apart like he counts them as he speaks, just to make sure he doesn't trip over himself, “Hey, don’t tell me you’re mourning too.” </p><p>“... Well," he draws out, rasping, subdued by his prolonged silence, "I did know him just a smidge longer than I know you, so, I'd like to think I'm <em> entitled </em> to some dramatics.”  </p><p>Dream picks his way closer, and when Techno considers him out of the corner of his eyes, see the way Dream rubs his thumb between his index and his forefinger absently. He's jittery, is what Techno notices, but he makes an effort to slow down every time they... well, on the occasions that they speak, which is well appreciated. </p><p>"Ouch.” Dream mutters, “Never thought the great Technoblade would get so caught up about <em> Jschlatt </em> <em> , </em> I guess you are mortal after all.” </p><p>What a thing to say. </p><p>He doesn’t want to think about Jschlatt – the brooding is only fun when he’s thinking about himself – and he refuses to be the kind of person that broods about other people. “You’re one to talk,” he says, warmed by his furs. “That false king of yours is easily skewered.” </p><p>The silence that follows is telling.</p><p>Dream draws closer, enough that he nearly towers over his sitting figure. Techno wouldn't be able to watch him out of the corner of his eyes now, only seeing the dark leather of his gloves, the innocuous strap wound around his left leg. Sounds almost angry, when he says, “That was a surprise, I’ll admit."</p><p>It pushes a smile out of him, and he laughs because he can. “He takes <em> so </em> much damage, I didn't expect it to be that easy." he says gleefully, leaning back on his elbows. He tips his head upwards to consider Dream's silhouette, "Eret sent for me immediately after he left your Holy ground, and I knew you were going to be right there, but I didn't know he would die <em>immediately."</em> </p><p>Dream watches him silently behind his mask.</p><p>His left leg shifts to turn, so that his body faces Techno. “Eret is yours now?” he asks, casually, airily.</p><p>Techno smiles.</p><p>Dream is dramatic even on his good days, he enjoys the sound of his own voice. Techno listens to the low lilting rhythm when he speaks, how he follows his own path with precision, that every word has weight on his tongue; it's... soothing, and he'll go no further on that. It disappears when Dream surrounds himself with his acolytes, brimming with thunderous confidence. His leathers, around his waist, across his chest, and the unflattering green he cloaks himself in, affect a rustic air, but Techno knows fine fabric when he sees it.</p><p>Emeralds spun into threads.</p><p>He entreats a respect to Techno that he appreciates, but this delicate skirting, these pleasantries. Technoblade has no patience for diplomacy; maybe if Wilbur would get out of his sewer, he might enjoy these games.</p><p>“Eret isn’t mine," he replies. "No one is mine."</p><p>His fingers curl together, drawing warmth from his palms. "I'm not like you, I have no... weaknesses to exploit, well, not anything worth checking. I protect no one, and no one protects me.” </p><p>Dream's immediate laugh is simply uncalled for. His fingers are cold on his thigh, when Dream moves to crouch at his feet. "I know that's not true," The mask smiles at him when Dream palms the dip of his kneecaps cheekily. The proximity prickles at the back of his neck, and he leans backwards to keep their distance. "There's that father of yours."</p><p>Techno lets his eyes fall on the space between Dream’s neck and shoulder, the fire blackened threads woven into his green hood. It’s a light fabric, it might be easily burned, loosely pulled over his head. They’re too close now, Techno thinks, close enough that if he were to be looking at Dream<em> , </em> he might be able to make out the colour of his hair, straying from the leather clasp of his mask. It feels- uncharitable.</p><p>“You’ve been spyin’.” he replies, calm as can be.</p><p>His fingers trace into the grooves of the wood beneath him, wondering when he ought to call his axe to him.</p><p>“This land is mine,” Dream replies, unphased, “The hole in the lake you call a base is mine, the ravine you’ve cordoned off is mine. If you wanna go there, you...” the mask is cold against his cheek, an unnatural chill. “Are wearing my clothes.” </p><p>Technoblade flicks his eyes to the two pinprick holes of Dream’s mask.  </p><p>“This is the flimsiest excuse for a come on I’ve ever heard.” he says. He notices, abstractly, when he’s being cornered. Pushing himself to sit upright by his elbows, he places a hand on Dream's chest. His back would have been flattened against the roof if he had let it, but having Dream towering over him is a good way to get himself murdered. Dream’s fingers follow the gold link chain that keeps Techno’s cloak clasped. “I hope you know that I'm swoonin’.”</p><p>Dream sits back on his heels, sighing. “I’m really trying to seduce you here, and you-” Techno laughs, “I think I might silence you,” he mutters, a hapless threat; Techno wants to see the board with which he works.</p><p>Cackling, he brings his right leg to himself gingerly. If he could put a little, a little space, there, “Absolute power corrupts absolutely.” </p><p>“What does that say about you?"</p><p>He doesn’t like hearing Dream’s quiet puff of breath. That reminder of life in a body made of spider silk. The silver draw of steel streaks across his mind’s eye, a constant, blistering threat that is only ever stifled when he has the sturdy handle of his axe in his hand. It’s a looming red blotch itching to get out. But Dream wouldn’t do that. Dream is in his domain, and Techno is the guest – he doesn’t <em> need </em>to do that.</p><p>"<em>Conduit</em>. You’ve lived in blood for so long, even your closest ones think it's all you are- I know the truth.” Dream murmurs, pushing Techno’s knees apart. "Only I know."</p><p>His hand snaps out. “Wait, are we, are we really doin’ this.”</p><p>Dream oozes amusement.</p><p>“What, you nervous?” </p><p>“You’re about to- I mean, you’re trying to bed me right out in the open. It’s a little nervewracking.” </p><p>Dream laughs. “Yeah I know, and you’re about to <em> let me.” </em></p><p>Techno clicks his tongue, leaning back. “I don’t know about that, you haven’t wooed me enough.” </p><p>Between one blink, there is a golden apple lush in Dream’s hands. </p><p>“I have your back.” Dream whispers, his smile sharp, his teeth gleaming. </p><p>Techno hates symbolism. </p><p>In the grand scheme of things, it’s a nothing gift, and Techno likes to believe his favour is harder to buy than one apple. Its use is limited. Dream’s curved smile is reflected on its iridescent surface, and he is fondly reminded of who its giver is, and how easily it was proffered. </p><p>Techno is greed incarnate, and his want for anything that shines has greater allure. He is sickly pleased despite himself. </p><p>He counts the costs.</p><p>Abstract in its thoughtfulness, tracking the expression of his face, Dream's fingers curl to brush against Techno’s when he takes it from him.  </p><p>What the heck. Techno has no one left, and Dream is always good to play with. </p><p>Techno hooks the smiling mask to the side to reveal the slip of a straight jaw, dry lips. Kisses him on the sharp edge of his mouth like an offering in return. Young gods are erratic- Techno counts himself only barely as a <em> young god. </em>He charged out of Elysium like his heels were on fire, blown on widescreens, he’d been immortalized young, and in the new age, turned ancient. </p><p>Dream’s mouth parts, in delighted surprise, and Techno tastes the forests in his victorious laugh. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>A scream rings off in the far distance, petering into peals of giggling laughter. Shrouded by the empty gust of the crater, under view of the stars, there's something exhilarating about listening to L'Manburg celebrate as Dream hikes Technoblade's leg onto his shoulder, his pants slipped to his knees.</p><p>Something secretive, all his own, when he tracks the long dip of Techno's neck with his mouth. What would the dead brother think? He had wondered, stepping onto the rooftop, if he'd been about to engage in a knife fight, if perhaps the good humour Technoblade had graced him with after the revolution disappears when he comes to himself again, but he is faced with the same tired amiability he's always been faced with. Does The Blood God ever end at all?</p><p>Techno is mute until he pushes his index finger into his entrance, slick of oil and tight around him. “Chilly.” he says blandly, watching Dream's other hand, braced at his shoulder, rather than Dream himself.</p><p>He's respectful. The mask unclasped around his neck, and Techno hasn't looked at Dream once.</p><p>Dream bullies a second finger into him in retaliation, and the noise that slips out of Techno is startled. </p><p>The glare is to be expected.</p><p>Empires have fallen under Technoblade's black stare, older perhaps than Dream himself. There are stories that slip between the cracks of the world, he would not be able to extend pardon to Technoblade even if he wanted to, entombed in perpetual war by Gods larger than he, wherever Techno steps. The crawling voice at the back of his head, when Technoblade looks that way, is instinctual, and fast pushed waved away by the immediate flick of his head, the guilt that sits between his brows, the long hours under his eyes that Dream would like to rub away. Instead, he grins, his fingers searching. "Are you shy, Techno? You're making me a little self conscious here,"</p><p>Techno makes a disgruntled noise, tipping his eyes back to look at the sky. "I live by... a code of honour." he says, a hand coming up to curl gently around his shoulder.</p><p>"Yeah, and I could kill you in like- seven seconds, if you don't look at me," Dream watches his face, the suppressed twitch of his mouth.</p><p>Dream can work with stubborn.</p><p>Techno's loose enough that he slips his fingers in and out with little tension, but it isn't what he's looking for. He considers himself something of a perfectionist, and he's not going to half-ass <em>Technoblade,</em> pushing his fingers deeper<em>.</em> His mouth parts in a sharp-toothed smile when Techno jerks under him, throat working. He fancies that he hears the fluttering pulse on the inside of Techno's bared wrist, how his expression ripples to a guarded disinterest. He's bracing himself.</p><p>Good.</p><p>He thrusts his fingers against the hot bundle of nerves again, deliberate in his precision, pushing down on a sharp shoulder with his other hand. He brings his face to Techno's cheek, wondering if he might be able to hear the click of his teeth, the water of his lips.</p><p>“Okay, I’m startin’ ," Techno breathes, he cuts himself off when Dream thrusts in again, lets it out quietly, "To think… you’re all talk.” </p><p>“No,” he replies casually, “Just making sure. You did say I was too cold for you,”</p><p>Techno’s fingers are iron on his shoulders, drifting to the bend of his neck. He wonders if he realises just how loud his breathing has become, curved over Techno's straining body. Discipline in all things, willing himself to keep still when Dream fucks his fingers into him, “I did not say that, <em>Dream</em>-" He spreads his fingers, and in the next beat, shoves a third one into Techno's feverish hole. <em>"-Enough,”</em> </p><p>“I just wanna make sure I don’t hurt you,” he grins, makes sure to hit at the spot that makes Techno gasp, swallow and bare his teeth. "It would really ruin the mood."</p><p>He tugs at the ring of darkened muscle as he pulls his finger to himself, coming to a stop. Techno's abdomen trembles when he reaches out, “Are you sure I'm warm enough-” he sucks in a quiet breath when a hot hand squeezes around him. He'd almost forgotten about himself, too caught on looking at the twist of Techno's face. The voice that creaks in his ear is half snarl, “If you’re not in me in the next thirty seconds, I'll cut it outta you.” </p><p>A shiver ripples up his spine.</p><p>That's interesting. He rests the blunt head of his cock against Techno’s slicked entrance and a self-satisfied laugh rumbles from Techno's throat, tugging Dream over him. It disappears into a breathy sigh when Dream pushes in, and becomes a muted silence when he gets a steady rhythm. Techno pushes the noises he makes down to his throat, the same way he'd done before, which just <em>won't do.</em> Dream cups him by his jaw, working his thumb into his mouth.</p><p>Techno lets it rest on his tongue only a little while, mouth parted, staggered breath pushed out of him. His face is flushed, and seems to flush darker when he catches on. Dream has to pry him open with his fingers, just to hear him again, hear the keens and the throaty sighs, choked up with every thrust.</p><p>“Don’t-” Techno’s tongue retreats from Dream’s fingers, slurred around him, trying miserably to sound stern, his hands hanging off the curve of Dream's arms, “Stop, don’t- do that,” </p><p>Dream hums, smoothening a hand down the dip of Techno's hip, “Someone told me you get all high-pitched when you’re off-guard.”</p><p>A brutal fuck against Techno’s prostate makes him press his face against the furs that surround him. His cape blooms under him, cushioning the twitch of his hips, seeming not to notice when he pushes himself up to meet Dream, not to notice or determined not to comment.</p><p>“I wanna hear it.”</p><p>Techno’s gaze, unfocused, snaps to him, and it must be a trick of the light that Dream catches a glimpse of the red gleam hiding in the slit of his irises. There is no shift of his thin, unearthly face, nothing which gives Techno away when he wraps his tongue around Dream's thumb, kitten licks at the tips of his fingers like a greeting, and Dream's heart quickens in his chest.</p><p>Techno bites down with bone-shattering force.</p><p>His fingers break under the sharp line of Techno’s maw. The pain comes in a rush, agonizing in its binding intensity, right past the skin. Blood bubbles out of Techno's mouth with his laughter, watching Dream’s face greedily. Red dribbles down the side of his mouth, pooling at the dip of his collarbone. He spits to the side, his hand comes up to grasp at Dream’s head, tugging him down tightly. His teeth are red stained. “Then you're gonna have to do that without cheatin’.” he breathes, smelling like copper and starlight, <em>“Blood for the Blood God."  </em></p><p>Dream wants to <em> ruin </em>him.</p><p>Mangled hand wrenching around Techno's cheeks, he captures his mouth in a biting kiss, sets a vicious pace just to swallow the unwilling noises caught in Techno's throat. It will heal, and he wants to take his God from him.</p><p>Techno is furnace around him, crumbling into him when he draws blood, hitching rasps increasing in its erratic frequency. Every cry is painted in the tightness around his eyes, and Dream will <em> have </em> it even if it isn't given to him, smile stretched across his face. He pounds into the body underneath him, and it's rough, too rough, but he can’t stop himself, chasing a high egged on by the blood in his mouth. </p><p>He spills inside Techno with a laugh, finds himself heaving, his head buzzing. Nearly misses the slow, rasping whine drawn from Techno's chest at being filled, his eyes disappearing beneath his eyelids as he shudders. </p><p>His hole clenches around Dream, like milking him, and Dream holds him down to fuck him through properly. Desperation tightens his arms. Dream wonders what would happen if he asked Techno to beg, would he be mauled on the spot?</p><p>“You <em> do </em>get high-pitched.” he says quietly.</p><p>Techno makes a sound that is half frustration, half laughter as he pushes at Dream’s shoulders, a moan Dream makes sure to remember, picking apart and kept safe to be replayed later. Techno's hands are shaking when presses them against his mouth, the ends of his eyes rosy red. “<em>No</em>, no-” comes trickling out, wet with copper and spit.</p><p>“Hey, no cheating,” Dream takes his hand, slamming it up beside his head, and Techno keens, shaking his head. His laughter is softened by his thin gasp, he looks at Dream pleading, mirth in his eyes. Dream slams into him with a good, long stroke, pushing his cum into him. </p><p>“Oh <em> god </em>-" </p><p>“Which God?” he whispers, Techno's heels dig into his back, tightening. "Will you say- say my name, Technoblade,"</p><p>Techno pushes himself on his cock, and he wraps his hand around the slender throat under him, admiring the bruise around the joints of his fingers where Techno broke them. The smile that crooks Techno's bloodied mouth is indulgent. When he comes, he shakes, but nothing leaves his lips. Dream licks the side of his face, nipping at his skin.</p><p>Techno sinks back against his furs, his arms slack.</p><p>“No free clout.” Techno says the fuzz of his cape, his words only barely strung together. Exhaustion seems to favour him, for he stays still when Dream reaches for his mask, settling it onto his face; when Dream tips his head to the side, worried Techno'd fallen asleep right then and there, an eye cracks open to peer at him.</p><p>“We would do great things if you were mine,” Dream mutters.</p><p>Techno lets out a quiet huff of laughter. “That would cost ya at least one more god apple,” </p><p>“So you’re saying that with enough god apples, I could <em> make </em> you mine.” </p><p>The clouds have streaked across the sky, burrowing the moon behind a filter, that Technoblade's face is shadowed when he laughs again. A hand reaches out to straighten Dream’s mask. “Truly the ideal companion,” comes the crooning comment, and though half-lidded eyes are watching Dream strap his clothes on, he knows it isn't him that Techno is speaking to, isolated within his own mind. He wonders if he will ever see the wretched face of the Blood God behind Technoblade, or if Technoblade is simply a god playing Dream for a fool. </p><p>The mad king cannot be all fiction.</p><p>Techno pushes himself slowly to sitting, leaning against his right arm as he flicks listlessly at the golden buttons of his shirt. Uninterested in dressing himself, Dream watches the line of his back, the curl of his toes as he rubs his legs together. Red cloth hanging haphazardly over his shoulders, Techno dips his fingers in the cooling cum between his legs, brings it to his lips. </p><p>Dream, not for the first time, <em> longs </em> to drive his axe through Techno’s chest, feel his throat clog and gurgle with his blood. If he cut himself open, would Techno drink from him? It's no wonder he's always carrying the searing fur cloak with him, it suits him. He's never seen Techno drenched in red, not the proper kind. Is this the work of the Blood God that he wants to see Techno bathed in it?</p><p>“I want your mouth next time.” he says, abrupt.</p><p>Techno pauses where he'd been picking at his soiled trousers, linking the chain of his cloak with his right hand. He will likely find a nearby stream, disappear into the wilderness before L'Manburg returns to herself. “... That’s insultingly presumptuous of you.”</p><p>He grins. “Hey, but it was good, right? I mean- why wouldn’t- why wouldn’t you wanna do it again?” </p><p>Techno considers him.</p><p>“You’re very needy.” </p><p>Dream kicks at the stains marring the wooden slab at his feet; “What!" he yelps, as Techno tiredly conjures a water bucket, emptying it out onto the wood, rubbing at it with his boots. "Wasn’t it good? You were- I'd say you were getting pretty loud there,” </p><p>Techno’s cheeks burn even in the shadows; it flatters the colour of his hair, falling over his shoulders as he peers into the crater beneath him. “Pleasure doin’ business with you, Dream.” he says.</p><p>The fire at the fringes of the city has turned into a smouldering smoke-pit, grey dolphins swimming upstream to find prey in the stars. There is a reason that proclaimed anarchist Technoblade only lingers on the stoops of newly built L'Manberg, without pointing his firework launcher directly at the stilts. It might be the thing in the sewers, it might be the grave in the distance, it might be the arrival of a good man. L'Manberg might compare chaos to anarchy and find them indistinguishable, perhaps the Badlands might do the same, but it's a mistake Dream cannot afford.</p><p>In Techno's hand, the god apple glimmers. “It’ll cost ya a lot more next time.”</p><p>He drops down, and Dream stands alone.</p><p>
  <span class="ILfuVd"> <span class="hgKElc">Church Prime is a bastion to his numbered days. Technoblade is an optimist despite his apathy, or perhaps because of it, he is untorn, unblinking, from his goals. He seeks a utopia without coercive hierarchy, and one way or another, that'll lead him to Dream. </span> </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="ILfuVd"> <span class="hgKElc">If he <em>is </em>funding his own downfall, he ought to make the most of it.</span> </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>techno: i can't believe i'm gonna sleep with him<br/>jschlatt's ghost: well you don't have to<br/>techno: no i'm gonna</p><p> </p></blockquote></div></div>
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